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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399170">I told myself I wouldn't let you complete me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/swrites/pseuds/brotherlysoulmates'>brotherlysoulmates (swrites)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Basically Destiel has a ritualistic orgy with a lovecraftian tentacle monster, Bottom Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Dean Winchester's First Time With a Man, Dubious Consent, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Fuck Or Die, It's For a Case, Lovecraftian Monster(s), M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Castiel (Supernatural), Oblivious Dean Winchester, Repressed Bisexual Dean Winchester, Ritual Sex, Sex Pollen, Slow Burn, Tentacle Sex, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:55:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/swrites/pseuds/brotherlysoulmates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas doesn’t want to fight, he just wants to get the job done and leave. The sooner they can wrap this up, the sooner he can take a case as far away from Dean as he can physically be and they can both go back to ignoring this. Whatever this was.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>132</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I told myself I wouldn't let you complete me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello everyone! This is my first public destiel fic, so please be gentle! And for destiel shippers, please be aware that I do multiship and write wincest, in case you wanted to go looking for more works. This was a commission, and if you're interested in having a fic like this written for you, please check the notes at the end!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You did </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas knows that Dean can sometimes be resistant to letting others take the lead on cases, and he absolutely respects that. But he doesn’t understand why Dean is staring at him like he’s grown three heads. Concerned, the angel looks himself up and down, making sure that none of his true visage is leaking through his vessel. It isn’t. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said,” Cas says with a frown, eyes still boring into Dean’s as he tries to solve the puzzle, “that there’s something going on at the winery in Locust Dale, Virginia. There have been blood sacrifices and disappearances, and some omens I can’t quite make sense of. I did some calling around as a potential customer, and they offered a discounted deal on their annual couples’ retreat this weekend. It was the best lead I could find, so I paid the man on the phone and he gave me the details about what to expect for the event. I can go over it now with you, if you wish.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s face turns a very particular shade of red as Cas speaks, and he knits his eyebrows together in concern, cocking his head to the side. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dean?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hunter takes a gulp of air and releases it slowly, massaging his temples with his index fingers. They’re calloused and thick, and Cas finds himself fascinated by them as he waits for Dean to respond. Thankfully, the disgruntled Winchester seems to have regained his composure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Couples retreat?” Dean asks through clenched teeth, and Cas can tell that his heart rate is still elevated despite his momentary pause earlier. The angel nods. “But we’re not a couple.” Dean’s voice cracks over the last syllable, and Cas’ eyebrows knit together further, confusion deepening. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You go undercover all the time, Dean, a few months ago you and that female hunter from Valley Falls pretended to be a newly engaged couple for that case in Topeka. I don’t see why this is any different,” Cas says, following Dean further into the hotel room as the hunter paces around.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wh- </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Cas, that was with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>girl</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t bat for my own team, buddy. Why don’t you ask Sam? I’m sure he’d love to play housewife with you,” Dean snaps, green eyes darkening with something that Cas would say was jealousy, if he wasn’t so certain Dean doesn’t feel that way about him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sam is on his way to Connecticut to meet up with Bobby for an investigation,” Cas explains, a gravelly note of irritation creeping into his tone. “You’ve made it very clear that you don’t feel attraction towards my vessel, Dean, it’s just a cover for a case. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, why are you making it one?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean opens his mouth, a retort on his tongue, but he just sighs and deflates. The bedsprings groan as he sits, and his fingers tug absently at the short strands of hair above his forehead. The silence stretches out over minutes and Cas thinks that it’s probably too long, but Dean still hasn’t said anything so he waits, expression placid as he watches Dean fidget. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My ah, my dad,” Dean starts, pausing to clear his throat and start again when all that comes out is a rasp. “Sammy was what, 14? when John found out that his youngest son liked kissing boys </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> girls.” Dean’s fingers brush absentmindedly at a scar on his eyebrow that had long since been washed away by his resurrection, and Cas’ eyes narrow slightly. He may not understand a lot of social cues, but he can definitely read between the lines here. “I uh, got between them. One of the only times I ever talked back to him, but I did. Got my ass beat, too, but he didn’t come after Sam about that again.” His green eyes were glassy and unfocused, lost in the memory.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas’ heart aches for Dean in this moment, which it tends to do more and more often these days. It’s an uncomfortable sensation, foreign and unfamiliar, and he reaches up and rubs his chest over his heart for a moment until the ache dissipates. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says, his voice soft, and Dean takes a sharp breath and flashes a too-wide smile at the angel, cocky mask sliding back into place in front of Cas’ very eyes. He waves a hand dismissively and pushes himself up, busying his hands with tossing his belongings into the duffel at the foot of the bed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine, everybody’s got their baggage I guess. I’m just not used to.. that sort of thing being okay. But you got us in the door, so the least I can do is tag along and act like the married couple they’re expecting, yeah?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas wants to keep talking about it, wants to gently wash away the pain in Dean’s eyes with the right string of words, or maybe laying hands on him and using his grace. But he knows that Dean’s capacity for accepting gentleness is nearing capacity on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> day, much less a day like today, and he knows that his power can’t mend this sort of wound. So he supports Dean in the only way he really knows how; he lets the subject drop and helps load their duffels into the trunk of the Impala, tossing Dean the keys over the roof as he slides into the passenger seat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>- - -</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just as Cas knew it would, the open road and the classic rock blaring through the speakers lifts Dean’s mood considerably. The angel observes him as surreptitiously as he can. The way Dean’s grin wrinkles around his eyes, the way his full lips curve around white teeth, the way his knuckles rap against the steering wheel in time to the music, the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he downs a swig of the soda they got at the Philips station on the way out of town. He spends most of his drives with Dean in this way, stealing glances when it’s safe. He’s not even sure why he’s trying to hide it. The only reason he can think of is that the staring unsettles Dean (or most people, apparently), but that hasn’t stopped Cas before.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean doesn’t notice (or if he does he pretends not to) the extra attention, but Cas finds himself puzzled by it. When did he stop staring at the highway before them, when did he start staring at Dean instead? When did watching Dean and cataloguing the different shades of green in his eyes become more interesting than appreciating the vast beauty of his Father’s creation? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas reasons to himself that he’s still doing that, just in a different way. His fascination with Dean is just the manifestation of his pride in his Father’s work, that’s all. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If that’s true, why does his heart leap into his throat every time Dean flashes him that Winchester smile? The crease between his eyebrows deepens as he thinks on it. Human emotions are perplexing at the best of times, as Cas is beginning to learn.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>- - -</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It takes them two days to get to Virginia from where they were staying in Texas, but eventually they make it (though Cas still doesn’t really understand why Dean wouldn’t let him teleport them there). They pull into the parking lot of the Inn, and Baby’s engine sputters to a stop as Dean puts her into park and turns off the ignition. Cas can read the anxiety and exhaustion emanating from Dean in the tense line of his shoulders, and he frowns at Dean’s back as he grabs their bags and leads them past the wrought-iron doors and into the lobby. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The place is… nice, not that Cas is particularly moved by any one kind of architecture. Much nicer than the skeezy motels they usually stay at. The floors are dark, gleaming oak and the walls are a rustic stucco, with delicate wrought-iron trim around the ceiling that matched the front doors. Abstract art pieces are placed strategically along the walls, drawing the eye inward. The hallway leads off into the darkness, and Cas thinks he can see some tables and chairs in the shadows.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s almost one in the morning, so there’s just a single receptionist at the desk, an oblong black granite fixture with a dark wall behind it. The receptionist, a woman dressed in an inviting uniform looks up and gives Cas a tired smile, tucking her dark hair behind one ear as he approaches. While Cas gives her his name, Dean takes in their surroundings, casing the area for entries and exits.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello. Reservation for Williams, for the couples’ retreat,” Cas says in a voice just this side of too loud for the dimly lit lobby at the early hour. The woman flashes him a polite smile, glancing between the two of them with curiosity. Dean meets her eyes briefly and gives her an obligatory grin before going back to scanning the room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me check our records here,” Kathy (Cas gleans from her nametag) says in a perky tone as she clacks onto her keyboard, squinting at the display monitor. “Andrew and…” Kathy glances at Dean and back to Cas, “Mark, do I have that right?”</span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Yes ma’am that’s me,” Dean chimes in from just behind Cas, and the angel can see that signature smile sliding into place in his periphery. “Andy here had to work overtime on our six month anniversary, so he made it up to me by booking this whole couples retreat thing for us. Isn’t he just the most thoughtful?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas’ mouth falls open in surprise when Dean locks eyes with him for the briefest moment, because he sees </span>
  <em>
    <span>tenderness </span>
  </em>
  <span>there, the kind he thinks he might have been hoping to see for a long time. But the moment passes, Dean’s eyes slide back to Kathy, and Cas can breathe again. He frowns, confusion flitting across his features before the stoic mask falls back into place. Kathy hands him the keys and points him down the hallway to the elevator. They head to the second floor, Dean’s wide and confident gait following Cas’ narrow and silent one. The second they’re out of sight of the lobby, Dean takes a very obvious step away from Cas, who tries not to verbalize the dull ache that spreads in his chest at the sight of it. He massages the skin over his heart again, frown deepening.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Few words are exchanged while the two enter the suite and set down their bags. Dean calls down to the lobby and arranges a wake-up call, and promptly face-plants into the mattress with a sigh of exhaustion. Cas can tell that the hunter is on the verge of passing out, but suddenly Dean’s eyes snap open.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“One bed,” he groans, pulling himself to his feet with a herculean effort.  “Right, so should I go get a sleeping bag from the department store?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas rolls his eyes. “No, Dean, just sleep as you normally would. I don’t require sleep, in case you forgot.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And what, have you stand guard over me all night in the corner like a Twilight reject? No thank you,” Dean says with a snort, forcibly trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. “I’ll just take a little trip to Wally World and get an inflatable mattress or -”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before Dean realizes what’s happening, Cas is behind him and his hand is cradling Dean’s head as everything goes dark.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your internalized issues do not take precedence over resting, Dean,” Cas says, mostly to himself, as he gently deposits Dean in the bed. He backs up and looks Dean over, that foreign feeling tightening in his chest again. Dean looks so much softer in his sleep, so much younger. He’s seen it before, that youthful softness, and he sees it slowly slip away each time Dean rises to consciousness. He sees the battle-weary soldier, the righteous man who spends his life saving others, who puts his family before everything, the man who’s lost so much. He sees the man who spent thirty years every waking second in unimaginable, unbearable agony in hell.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas wishes more than anything that he could have gotten there just a little bit sooner. Anything to protect that gentle, innocent expression that only shows when he’s sleeping. Cas digs the heel of his palm into his chest, rubbing over his heart, and he frowns. Knocking Dean out is only a stopgap, they’re going to have to find a way to get along over the next two days or they might blow this hunt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>- - -</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sunlight begins to peek through the windows, and Cas finds himself staring at Dean, which he’s been doing more and more often lately. He didn’t undress the man before putting him into bed last night, just removed his jacket, so the soft blue cotton of Dean’s tee is wrinkled and bunched up around his stomach. Cas stares, drinking in every inch of bare skin he can see, memorizing the placement of each freckle, fingers twitching with the urge to trace each scar. His eyes are naturally drawn lower, down the gentle slope of Dean’s belly by the slow and steady rhythm of his breathing. He’s noticed Dean’s body hair before and hadn’t formed much of an opinion on it either way, but something about the way the hairs gently shine golden in the sleepy sun has him transfixed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He idly wonders what that hair would feel like under his fingertips, how low it might go, what sensation his lips would provide over the fuzzy trail that disappeared into the low cut of the hunters faded jeans. What sort of noise would Dean make? A sleepy mumble of a protest? A soft, breathy sigh that asks for more? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>An unfamiliar bloom of heat begins to unfurl in Cas’ abdomen, and he frowns as he glances down, shooting his stomach a withering look. His attention is drawn back to the hunter sprawled across the bed as the man stretches and rolls over, his shirt bunching and shifting further to show Cas the gentle slope of a shoulder blade, and the dip of Dean’s spine. This too was covered in freckles, and again Cas is no stranger to seeing Dean in varying stages of undress (who else is going to patch him up when they’re on a hunt?), but he’s again struck with the urge, or perhaps compulsion is a better word, to map each constellation of freckles with his lips. The curve of his ass just barely shows under the low cut of his pants, and for the first time, Cas finds himself </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanting.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What would Dean’s voice sound like, rough with sleep and sighing the angel’s name like a benediction? Those mossy green eyes, looking up at him, hazy and unfocused with sleep and desire, and most of all, </span>
  <em>
    <span>trust.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas sucks in a short breath and glares down at his thickening erection, willing it to recede. He shouldn’t be doing this. Dean trusts him to watch his back while he sleeps, not to.. ogle him like some lecher. The angel clenches his fists in disgust and with a flap of his wings, he’s gone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The angel decides to ignore his problems in true Winchester fashion by focusing on preparing for their weekend. He and Dean didn’t get any formal wear before they left, so Cas looks around for a department store. He somehow ends up in the mall and has to ask for directions several times before he finds the right store. He walks in, immediately overwhelmed by the sheer number of </span>
  <em>
    <span>options</span>
  </em>
  <span> there are. He doesn’t understand anything about human fashion, how is he supposed to pick something that Dean will like? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, a short, snappily dressed older man walks towards him with a bright smile, waving him further in. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well good morning to you, sir! My name is Wilfred, how can I help you today?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas explains the situation as best he can, earning a few sympathetic tongue clicks and thoughtful nods. Wilfred looks him up and down, eyes sharp and discerning. After several long moments of silence, the man nods to himself, turns on his heel, and marches into the back of the shop. Cas isn’t sure if he’s meant to follow or stay put, so in light of the lack of instruction, he stays put. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It turns out this was the right call because a few minutes later Wilfred comes back with his arms loaded with clothes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He spends what feels like hours explaining the different patterns and styles, what goes with what, what doesn’t go with what. By the time they’re finished, Cas’ head is spinning with knowledge he knows he isn’t going to retain. Once they’ve decided on a few outfits for Cas, he describes Dean in detail, and Wilfred’s eyes spark with amusement as he beckons for the angel to follow him over to a display with more ties than Cas has ever seen in one place. Wilfred’s watching him expectantly, and he’s not really sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> Wilfred is expecting, so he just looks at all of the ties one by one. His eyes slide slowly and methodically over each tie, all varying patterns and colors, until they pause at one in particular. It’s a dark forest green, simple and satiny, and Cas knows it’s the exact shade of green that he sees in Dean’s eyes every day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Looking up at Wilfred, Cas sees that a knowing smile has curved on the older man’s lips, and the man snatches the tie from the display and disappears into the back again. When he comes back, he has more clothes in his arms, and they go through them together as Cas tries to picture Dean in each of the outfits provided. They settle on a few things that are understated and complementary to Cas’ own selections, and as Wilfred rings up his order, Cas hopes that Dean likes them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>- - -</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In a surprising display of restraint, Cas decides to materialize in the bathroom of their suite instead of the bedroom, so as not to wake Dean. The angel catches sight of himself in the mirror, arms laden with meticulously chosen clothes, and he realizes with a start that he suddenly cares what Dean thinks. He’s hesitant, nervous even, and the realization alone is enough to startle him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He continues to stare at himself in the mirror, eyes narrowed as he contemplates. It’s just for the case, right? He’s just getting caught up in their cover, playing the eager husband. ...Right?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reflexively, Cas finds himself massaging that aching tightness in his chest as he searches his own eyes for the answers. Finding none, he sighs and heads into the bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean is still fast asleep, sprawled unceremoniously across the length of the mattress, snoring softly. A warmth folds gently around the tightness in Cas’ chest, and his eyebrows pull together into a familiar frown. He finds himself wishing he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> sleep, if only to be able to wake up slowly in the morning light with Dean’s warmth next to him. His heart twinges again, and he shakes his head, dispelling the thoughts as he quietly deposits the freshly bought clothing into the wardrobe nestled against the wall across from the bed. Cas’ fingers gently glide across the shoulder of one of the blazers he and Wilfred had chosen for Dean, and when he catches himself he balls his hand into a fist, turning away from the open wardrobe with a sour expression.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just as he does so, Dean makes a soft noise and his eyes slowly flutter open, still foggy with sleep. He takes in his surroundings slowly, and Cas tries not to look guilty when their eyes meet. There’s some warmth in Dean’s eyes as they hold one another’s gaze that he doesn’t quite recognize, but it blooms in his chest just the same, tentative and hopeful. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Dean mumbles softly, voice still thick with sleep, and that feeling in Cas’ chest quickly spreads lower to curl tightly in his gut. Dean’s lips part slightly, a slow breath falling from his lips, and the way he squirms under Cas’ dark gaze does not go unnoticed. The tightness returns, pulling his breath short, and the angel turns back to the wardrobe. He massages his chest and gestures at the clothes hanging neatly inside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I went to the store while you slept. We hadn’t gotten any suitable attire on the way here and I know you don’t like to shop.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean doesn’t respond, but Cas hears the bed shift under his weight. He resists the urge to turn and look as Dean joins him, afraid that Dean would see the guilt in his eyes. Their shoulders brush as the hunter reaches into the wardrobe, fingers flicking through the hangers and pulling each item out to inspect. Cas is frozen in place, rendered immobile by the way his skin is searing under his clothes where Dean is pressed against him. He’s so focused on not doing anything to shatter the moment that he almost forgets that he’s waiting for Dean’s judgment on his purchases. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“These are… really good?” Dean says slowly, as if he can’t quite believe it. Cas isn’t offended. In fact, quite the opposite; his chest swells with pride at the approval, and that in itself confuses him. Dean glances over at him, and Cas quickly averts his eyes and nods, warmth rising to his cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There was a man at the store. He helped me,” he says, and if his voice is gruffer than usual, Dean doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he claps Cas on the back with a grin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Still, good job, man! These are way nicer than what Sammy and I usually get.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas isn’t looking at Dean, but all he can see is moss and emerald and honey. He almost doesn’t hear Dean ask about their itinerary, but he clears his head and fills the hunter in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Complimentary breakfast on the veranda at 8:30 am, an introductory mixer from 2:00-4:00 pm, and dinner at 7:30 pm. Tomorrow they have a tour of the vineyard at 11:00 am and a private brunch at 1:00 pm in the pavilion in the center of the vineyard. They’ll have several hours of downtime to investigate after that, before the soiree at 8:00 pm. Then checkout at 9:00 am the next day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean whistles appreciatively as he yanks the dark green sweater off its hanger and heads over to where his duffel was dumped unceremoniously into a chair when they’d first checked in. Cas observes him quietly, trying not to be excited about the fact that Dean chose the sweater </span>
  <em>
    <span>he picked out</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he realizes Dean’s pants are about to come off, Cas looks away quickly, and figures he should get changed as well. He blindly fumbles in the closet for a pair of trousers, body going through the motions to dress himself, but his thoughts are on Dean. It’s not hard to imagine what the hunter looks like behind him, ass bare and muscles clenching as he shoves his legs into his trousers one leg at a time. It’s not hard at all to imagine the way Dean’s fingers would expertly tuck around his cock, holding it in place while he pulls the waistband over his hips. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas stumbles into his trousers, face warm as he catches himself fantasizing. What is he doing? It’s an invasion of Dean’s privacy to imagine these sorts of things. He shakes his head to clear his mind of such thoughts and finishes getting dressed while Dean slips into the bathroom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas is fumbling with his tie when Dean steps out of the bathroom, and the angel’s mouth suddenly dries. He tries not to stare, but the sweater clings to Dean’s shoulders, accentuating the muscle there in a way that makes heat fan deep in Cas’ abdomen. Dean’s eyes slide smoothly from Cas’ feet up to meet his gaze, and suddenly the whole room feels too hot, too small. He doesn’t know what to make of the darkness in Dean’s eyes, the heat he finds there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn, you clean up </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Cas,” Dean says, flashing him a surprised grin, but Cas is more interested in the appreciation ringing in his tone. His cheeks flush despite himself, pride unfurling in his chest, and he returns the smile with a brief, shy twitch of his lips.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you. You look very nice yourself, Dean. Are you ready?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You kidding? I’m starving, let’s get down there, I want to see if they serve steak for breakfast.” Dean flings the door open and strides into the hallway, looking back to grin at Cas as he rubs his hands together in anticipation. Cas smiles back at him, a warm ache filling his chest, and he thinks he likes that feeling a lot better than the painful twist.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>- - -</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keeping up their cover is proving to be… difficult, to say the least. Despite the warmth of their interactions in their room, Dean keeps worming his way out of Cas’ grip every single time he initiates contact. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first time it happens, they had just sat down at one of the tables in the dining area, and after several minutes of consideration (most of which consisted of staring at Dean’s hand like it had wronged him somehow), Cas reaches out and places his hand over Dean’s.  Dean jumps, snatching his hand back like Cas’ touch is scalding, and a few curious eyes turn their way at the noise of Dean’s chair scooting loudly across the floor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas gives him a withering glare and opts to pick up the menu and focus on pretending to order something. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No one is going to believe we even like each other, much less that we’re betrothed if you won’t let me touch you, Dean,” Cas mutters into his menu, and he feels rather than sees Dean clench his teeth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know that,” Dean snaps back defensively. “I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s fine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their waiter arrives then, saving Dean from Cas’ retort, and both men hastily cover up their argument with fake smiles. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This goes on all day long. Cas will try to wrap an arm around Dean, and Dean will slip right out of his grip. Cas goes for his hand, and it’s suddenly no longer there. He tries just sitting close to Dean on the sofa in the lounge area, but as soon as he’s settled, Dean is on his feet again, laughing awkwardly as he finds an excuse - a water refill, this time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The tightness in Cas’ chest only twists and coils sharper and more jagged as the day goes on. He knows that this is just a case, but this </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> still supposed to be a romantic weekend, or at the very least enjoyable, but Dean has been finding every excuse to be as far away from Cas as possible, for as long as possible since the day began. Is his touch really so revolting? Is the thought of pretending to be intimate with him so horrible as to make Dean not even want to be around him?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His depressing train of thoughts is broken as Dean slumps into the seat across from him, waving at an older woman in a very low-cut dress with a smile on his face that has ice digging into his lungs. Of course. That’s what Dean does, it’s how he gets information, he charms and flirts his way through and gets all the answers. Except with him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas is </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> starting to regret this trip.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The day passes in much the same manner, Cas’ patience growing thinner by the minute. When Dean returns to his seat after the umpteenth time of dodging Cas, flashing a grin at the same older woman over by the food table, that patience reaches its limit. Cas stands up abruptly, chair scooting behind him loudly, and Dean and half a dozen other people turn to look at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, you good, Andy?” Dean asks warily, half-smile frozen in place on his face as he looks up at Cas.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine. I simply have no desire to be somewhere I’m not wanted, so I will return to our room and be alone. Good night, Dean,” Cas says, voice tight with anger and eyes colder than Dean had seen them in a long time. Dean frowns, making to reach out for Cas’ wrist, but the angel steps out of his reach.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, hang on, C-” Dean starts, but Cas doesn’t wait to hear the rest, just turns on his heel and walks away quickly; he’s not even sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>where</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s going, he just knows he has to get away from here. His chest is hollow, throbbing with pain, and he can barely breathe around it as he walks blindly down the hall and as far away from Dean as he can manage. The angel digs his fingers into the skin of his chest, not sure whether he’s trying to apply pressure or claw his heart out, and he’s so focused on trying to force himself to breathe that he doesn’t notice Dean following him into the hall until the familiar shadow falls over him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cas, what the hell, you- whoa, hey, are you okay?” Dean pauses mid-sentence, switching tracks as he takes in the situation. Cas looks up from where he’s slumped against the wall, glaring dolefully at Dean, who’s looking at him with such concern that his expression softens. Then he remembers why he was upset in the first place, and the ice is back in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How I am is none of your concern, as you’ve made </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> clear by your absence this entire day,” Cas grinds out, a rush of satisfaction jolting through him at the surprised look on Dean’s face. Those beautiful, </span>
  <em>
    <span>infuriating</span>
  </em>
  <span> lips part to speak, but the angel jams a finger in the air, signaling he’s not done. Dean relents with a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting his weight from foot to foot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am very aware of our goal here, but you are making that impossible with the way you keep avoiding me!” Cas says, eyes flashing with anger in the dimly lit hallway. “I understood your reservations last night when you brought them up, but Dean, you haven’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m not asking for much, here, but if our cover is going to remain intact, you have to at least act like you can stand the sight of me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas doesn’t even bother hiding the hurt in his voice, and when Dean’s eyes go wide with surprise, he closes his own. He doesn’t want to fight, he just wants to get the job done and leave. The sooner they can wrap this up, the sooner Cas can take a case as far away from Dean as he can physically be and they can</span>
  <em>
    <span> both</span>
  </em>
  <span> go back to ignoring this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” Dean starts. “I haven’t been-” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas nearly snarls, anger flashing in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the problem! No, you haven’t! You haven’t been </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> except as far away from me as possible this entire day, I’ve tried to touch you several times and the second I do, you’re gone! If I try to smile at you or flirt with you as a lover does, you look so uncomfortable that I have to stop or the people around us will think I’m forcing you to be here. And frankly, I’m not entirely sure they’re wrong. We should just pack up and go, I’m sure Sam and Bobby can-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas’ tirade is cut off with Dean’s mouth on his, hot and urgent. His eyes fly open in surprise, but then Dean’s tongue is behind his teeth and he’s melting into it, moaning into the kiss. He slides his hands up to fist his hands in Dean’s hair, and the noise that rumbles from Dean’s tongue to his lights Cas’ blood on fire. He wants to lay Dean out and find every noise he makes, he wants to devote the rest of his life to discovering every whine, every whimper, every groan. He wants it </span>
  <em>
    <span>all.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them are quite sure what to do with their hands, but Dean somehow manages to slot his thigh between Cas’ legs and - </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Friction, hot and insistent, and Cas groans loudly into Dean’s mouth, getting back an equally desperate noise. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Dean pulls back, Cas surges forward on instinct, dark eyes burning, but he follows Dean’s gaze to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> scandalized housekeeper at the end of the hallway, clutching her linens to her beet-red face as she scuttles out of sight. The angel freezes, sure that Dean is going to freak out - </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone saw them -</span>
  </em>
  <span> but Dean just laughs and straightens himself back up, pulling Cas along with him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“At least we gave her something to talk about,” Dean says with a smirk, and Cas’ stomach clenches as he remembers the feeling of Dean’s tongue on his, their bodies pressed together. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, no more running away?” Cas asks hoarsely, the attempted sarcasm falling flat with his voice sounding so wrecked. Dean smiles wryly and shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just a bit of an idiot, Cas,” Dean says with a grin, and Cas snorts. That’s certainly true. “I just got too in my head about it. It’s different than when I’m flirting with a woman, it’s. I don’t really know what I’m doing. I’m not used to that feeling, especially about relationships.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then follow my lead, Dean. You don’t have to be the one in control all the time, let me help you,” Cas replies immediately, conviction ringing in his words. He takes a purposeful step towards Dean, watching the surprise and hesitation flicker in those bright green eyes. He waits until he sees them both fade into acceptance before taking another step forward, bracketing Dean against the wall. “Let me show you,” Cas murmurs, eyes locked on Dean’s lips as he leans up, and he twitches his lips upward in victory when he hears the ragged breath Dean takes. But still he waits, and waits, and finally Dean nods, and only then does he close the gap between them. He presses their mouths together and slides his tongue into Dean’s mouth in one sure motion, the only thing he’s felt sure about since arriving here, and nearly sighs in relief when he feels Dean begin to respond in kind, fingers digging into Cas’ shoulders as he kisses him back. Dean’s back hits the wall and he makes a soft noise of surprise, which Cas devours greedily, licking further into Dean’s mouth and pressing their bodies together. His hips are bracketed against Dean’s, and just the </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise</span>
  </em>
  <span> of friction is enough to have them both breathing a little harder into each others’ mouths.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas only stops when they’re both panting, needing oxygen but not wanting to stop long enough to breathe. He pulls away and looks up at Dean with uncertainty, wondering if perhaps he’d gone too far. Dean, on the other hand, is quiet, his face flushed and chest heaving slightly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoa,” Dean breathes, and Cas feels himself swell with pride at the breathless, starry-eyed look in Dean’s eyes. “Where the hell did you learn to kiss like that, Cas?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugs and says, “I have to watch you and your brother make out with women all the time when we’re working together. I simply studied your movements in the event that this particular skill would be required of me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean gives him an odd look and snorts, rolling his eyes. “Way to kill the mood, Romeo,” he says as he straightens up, patting the wrinkles out of his shirt. Cas tilts his head, confused, and feels that anxious squeeze dig in around his ribs. But then Dean grabs his hand, squeezes it gently, and asks, “You ready to go back in?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That place in his chest floods with warmth, and he nods.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Together.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>- - -</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With their personal troubles behind them, the two solve the case with little trouble. It turns out that some Lovecraftian cult set up shop at this winery about fifty years ago and have been offering horny newlywed couples as ritualistic offerings to their deity in exchange for power. Dean managed to charm one of the staff into telling them that none of them have ever been allowed into the cellar, it’s strictly off limits. One person went down there and was never seen from again. The owners said they had a family emergency and moved back home, but it was never confirmed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pair resolve to look into the cellar in the morning, before the other guests have woken up for the day. In the meantime, there’s a party to enjoy, and Dean is adamant they enjoy it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A wine glass is shoved into Cas’ hand, and he frowns into the cup before looking up at Dean quizzically.  They had blissfully avoided the brunt of the food and drink portions of their getaway, but it seems that Cas’ luck has finally run out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a bottle of Cabernet Franc Reserve,” Dean explains, his hand coming up to cup the back of Cas’ neck, and the angel finds himself distracted by the sweeping line of Dean’s thumb behind his ear. “They uh, they bottled it in 2008.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It takes Cas a few moments to piece together why Dean’s cheeks are flushed red, but then it clicks into place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The year we met.” His voice is tender, and he smiles reassuringly, watching some of the tension melt from Dean’s shoulders. “I am very touched, Dean, thank you,” he says, placing his hand gently over Dean’s where it rests against his neck.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I can be sappy sometimes,” Dean says defensively, but it lacks its usual bite, and Cas gives him another smile. Dean looks away sheepishly, cheeks reddening further. “Anyway, uh, I know you don’t enjoy eating or drinking so you don’t have to drink a whole glass if you don’t like it, you can just try some of mine if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“....Thank you, Dean. That is very thoughtful. I will try it,” Cas says with a small smile, and is pleased to see Dean give him one in return as he hands him the wine glass. The smell is.. certainly something, and Cas wrinkles his nose in displeasure. “It smells.. very sharp.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean laughs. “Well, yeah, wine is like that. I generally prefer beer but when in Rome or whatever, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But we are not.. ah, a colloquialism,” Cas says with a nod of understanding as he realizes. “Yes, when in Rome.” He raises the glass at Dean in a mock toast gesture, and takes a sip. After a few long moments, Cas’ face scrunches up in displeasure, and he quickly hands the drink back to Dean, who laughs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d like it, but no harm in trying, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two spend several long hours together in the garden, Dean eating while he listens to Cas, and Cas simply observing as he listens to Dean. It’s nearly dark out by the time a staff member approaches them and patiently ushers them back to the lobby in preparation for closing time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One would think that after the revelation earlier in the day, the two would be more apprehensive of sharing the bedroom together. But Dean had drank slowly but steadily all night, never enough to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>drunk</span>
  </em>
  <span> but plenty enough to start snoring the second his head hits the pillow, face first. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas pulls the blankets up loosely around the hunter’s shoulders and places a gentle palm on the side of Dean’s cheek. His chest is bursting, he feels like he can’t quite breath around it, but it’s never ached in a good way before. Before, it ached because he felt so empty, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>now.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Now it feels like he’s overflowing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With that thought warming his insides, Cas turns to the chair in the corner to settle in for the night, but pauses, his gaze sliding from the chair to the bed that Dean is sprawled out on. After  a moment or two of deliberation, he decides to take off his trenchcoat and climb into the bed with Dean - not under the covers, just gently curled around the hunter’s sleeping form. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His </span>
  </em>
  <span>hunter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>- - - - -</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two of them rise well before dawn, careful to make as little noise as possible as they pack up their belongings and head downstairs. The lobby is completely deserted, the hunters notice as they slide past the reception desk and into the parking lot. They work silently and efficiently, falling into routine easily as they stow their things in the backseat and gather the tools they need from the trunk of the Impala.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas notices the tension that immediately tightens Dean’s spine, sees his fingers slide around the butt of the gun tucked into his waistband, and immediately sets his jaw. His grip around the angel blade tucked into his sleeve tightens; something is amiss.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Dean’s eyes slide to his, he’s already in motion, swiftly following behind the hunter as they sweep the perimeter room by room. The air hangs heavy around them, almost obstructive in its thickness, and the weight only grows with each empty room they clear through.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Completely deserted,” Dean says tersely, and Cas nods, his eyes lingering on the strong line of Dean’s jaw. “Guess there’s nowhere to go but the cellar, and that’s where we were headed anyway. C’mon, eyes sharp.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The angel blinks the thoughts away and falls into step behind him, readying himself for whatever corkscrew these witches planned to throw at them. Dean leads them into the kitchen, and the pantry from there. They find the door right where it's supposed to be, nestled into the brick flooring of the fanciest pantry Dean’s ever seen. He finds the handle easily, a plain wrought-iron ring about the size of his palm, and tugs hard. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Almost immediately, Dean stumbles back, yelping in pain as the metal sears his flesh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> the hunter hisses, nearly dropping his gun to cradle his fresh injury. Cas lets out a small noise of concern and surges forward, laying his hand over Dean’s and calling forth the grace inside him. He closes his eyes, and prays silently.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Please let me heal him, Father.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The angel opens his eyes, and they gleam bright blue with holy energy. His hand glows white and Dean’s flesh knits itself back together under his touch, instantly and painlessly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He almost drops Dean’s hand and steps back, as he had done a thousand times before, but then Dean’s fingers wind into his and squeeze. Cas knows the touch is meant to be a nonsexual comfort, but Dean’s skin brushing against his sparked that fire in his gut, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>hotter.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He nearly moans out loud as Dean’s thumb brushes across the back of his hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Dean says softly, and the two of them let the tenderness hang in the air for a moment before refocusing. Cas tries again to shake the building heat in his core and sends a wave of holy energy through the makeup of the door. It sizzles under his touch, and they both watch intently as painfully bright purple sigils appear against the wood of the door. After another moment, the sigils slough off like pencil shavings, leaving a fine purple dust on the door that wisps away on a draft that they’re both certain doesn’t actually exist.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Witches,” Cas says with a shrug, eyes darting down to watch the slow bob of Dean’s adam’s apple as he grunts an agreement. He wants to close the gap between them, he wants to lick over the swell of Dean’s throat where his facial hair begins to creep up his neck. He wants to sink his teeth in, to bite and </span>
  <em>
    <span>claim,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he - </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean yanks the door open, the hinges clearly well oiled despite its age, but there’s still a loud crash when the door falls back and hits the wall behind it, and the noise is enough to yank Cas out of the seductive pull of the ever-growing lust beginning to cloud his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They descend, slowly and carefully down the steps into the dark room below. With each step the air becomes heavier and heavier, until it feels like Cas is swimming in it. The fire in his core has started to spread, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>scorching</span>
  </em>
  <span> inside him, radiating out from the white hot ball of lust low in his belly in aching pulses. Each step has his cock thickening, and when his length brushes against the crease of his trousers, Cas’s knees buckle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dean,” the angel rasps out and reaches blindly for his hunter, voice rough with lust and pain. “Someth- something’s wrong.” Dean’s arms immediately circle around him and keep him from collapsing, but the warmth of the hunter’s skin against his side has Cas drawing in ragged breaths. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I got you, Cas, it’s okay, what’s happening?” Dean’s hands are on Cas’ forehead and he nearly growls in frustration because that’s not anywhere </span>
  <em>
    <span>near</span>
  </em>
  <span> enough, but the worry in Dean’s tone forces him to focus through the haze. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Some kind of - aphrodisiac spell, something in the air,” the angel explains through gritted teeth. “Affects divines more severely, apparently.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s eyebrows shoot up, and he looks like he’s about to argue, but then Cas flicks his tongue out to wet his chapped lips, and the hunter’s eyes shift down immediately, going dark as they fixate on his tongue. The hunger in them sends a wave of arousal shuddering up Cas’ spine, so intense he bites out a groan. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“..Oh,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean croaks out, the word barely more than a whisper between them, but it crackles across Cas’ skin like fire. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dean, I don’t know if I can control myself -” Cas begins to warn him, but Dean is already shaking his head, setting his gun aside and leaning forward to lick into the angel’s mouth. The rush of pleasure at the wet slide of muscle has a long spurt of precome dribbling from Cas’ aching cock, and he groans deeply into the kiss. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel it too, Cas,” Dean practically growls into Cas’ mouth, nipping at the angel’s tongue in a way that has Cas panting. “I don’t want you to control yourself,” he says while trying to yank Cas’ trenchcoat off his shoulders, and when it gets stuck at his elbows, Cas thinks he would probably laugh if he wasn’t so blindingly </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Damn it Cas, get these fucking clothes off, my skin hurts.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas is </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> in no position to argue, not that he even wants to. With a wave of his hand, their clothes vanish, and there’s no room in his conscious brain to wonder where he even deposited them because Dean’s lips are around his cock and - </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span> - this is exactly what he needed. His pain lessens immediately and his pleasure skyrockets so immensely that a thick glob of precome gushes into Dean’s mouth, and Cas groans as he feels the hunter swallow it without batting an eye.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The angel can feel his grace heating up the room, begging to be unleashed, but there’s just enough rational thought in his head to remember that if he does that without protecting Dean, the hunter will die. He grabs that sliver of rational thought and builds walls around it, locking away the final piece of him from the influence of whatever is determined to make them fuck themselves stupid. With that done, he has no rational thought left, and by the time he feels the oozing warmth of thick tentacles pressing against his back, his thighs, Dean’s ass, he’s too aroused by it to be alarmed in the slightest. And honestly? He should probably get a medal for being able to think </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Dean’s mouth latched onto his cock like the only thing in the world that matters is draining him dry.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean startles slightly when he feels the tip of a tendril wrap around the curve of his ass, but the appendage seems content to just squeeze and rub. The effect is almost immediate; Dean’s already hard cock is now steadily leaking between his legs, and Cas can feel drool and his own precome beginning to coat the base of his shaft. Dean whines around Cas’ cock, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>wow</span>
  </em>
  <span> is that the hottest thing Cas has ever heard in his life. He forces his eyes to open and looks down to where Dean is working his cock like his life depends on it; and at this point, that’s probably a fair assumption. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the lewdest thing Cas has ever laid eyes upon - Dean’s forest green eyes completely black and glassy with preternatural lust, pink lush lips swollen and slick where they’re curved around his dick, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span> - Dean’s hand is between his own legs, humping his fist furiously. The sound is almost as lewd as the sight, Dean’s cock is gushing so continuously that his fist might as well be a pussy for all the noise it’s making as he fucks it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The tentacles have almost completely surrounded them at this point, winding and slithering their way into every crevice of the pair’s bodies they can find, rutting uselessly into elbows and thighs and hips. The oozy secretion that slicks across their skin everywhere the tentacles touch seeps into their bloodstream, making the pair’s movements and actions more and more frantic until Cas is humping Dean’s mouth, primal growls ripping from his throat as he fists his hands in Dean’s hair and holds him in place. Dean is whining, slobber and precome dripping down his chest and onto the tentacles teasing his nipples, his eyes screwed shut as his hand blurs over his cock. Cas thinks he could probably do this forever, just fucking Dean’s mouth until the end of time, but he needs to come so badly it hurts, his balls feel tight and heavy and his skin aches. He’s humping into his hunter’s throat with a force that’s frankly alarming, but he just can’t seem to get there until - a tentacle curiously presses against his entrance, and he groans loudly. The monster takes that as encouragement and slides in and - </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh God</span>
  </em>
  <span> - it’s spreading him open and the burn is exquisite and the second it presses against his prostate, the angel is </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a loud shout, Cas comes down Dean’s throat so hard that the lightbulbs in the room explode. If he were mentally present, he would be ashamed of the amount of force he’s using to milk his cock with Dean’s mouth, using him like a masturbation toy, but all that matters is the hot slide of Dean’s tongue on his shaft, the whines vibrating through his cock, the tears in the hunter’s eyes. All that matters is chasing that pleasure, losing himself completely to it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The monster gives them no respite, not that either of them cares at this point. Cas’ orgasm doesn’t slow him down in the slightest, and when the tentacles coil themselves around both him and Dean, their intoxicating secretion seeping into their skin, he feels his erection get even </span>
  <em>
    <span>harder,</span>
  </em>
  <span> if that was even possible. It throbs back to full mast and then some in the confines of Dean’s mouth, and when Cas resumes fucking Dean’s face with a singleminded focus, both of them groan deeply, overcome by the lust boiling their blood from the inside out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Mmmmore…. More…… Mmmoore…….</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The thought echoes loudly in the pair’s minds, urging them to give themselves over even further to mindless desire. Cas’ mouth is immediately filled with a thick tentacle, and it fucks his mouth with the same ferocity that Cas himself is using to pleasure himself with Dean’s throat. The tentacles coil around Dean’s thighs, one thick tendril wrapping itself around the hunter’s steadily dribbling cock, and Dean howls with pleasure as the appendage begins to squeeze and shift around him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The coils each move in opposite directions, providing stimulation like Dean has never experienced before, and coupled with the overwhelming pleasure of the secretion from the monster’s skin, Dean’s screaming out an orgasm in record time. The sound reverberates around Cas’ cock where it’s plunging into Dean’s throat repeatedly, and Cas lets out a feral snarl as he slams his hips into Dean’s face and comes, again and again until he’s certain that Dean’s stomach will be much rounder by the end of this. If there </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> any end to this. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Under normal circumstances, that thought would have anyone terrified, but Cas is spurred on by it. Eternal pleasure with his soulmate? What could be finer?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The monster interrupts Cas’ train of thought, such as it is, by using its thick tendrils to pull the pair apart, wrapping around each of them like it has no intention of ever letting them go. A tentacle coils around Cas’ cock just as it’s coiled around Dean’s, and Cas groans and begins thrusting into it roughly, the wet slap of flesh on tentacle reverberating through the thick lusty haze of the room. He thrusts forward into the crevice the tentacle has made for him, and then roughly thrusts back, repeatedly impaling himself on a thick tentacle while he fucks into another. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two of them go on like this for what seems like hours before the final straw finally drops. The monster uncoils one tendril around Dean’s thigh and pushes slowly but steadily into his hole, and the shout of pleasure that is pulled from Dean sears Cas down to his marrow. He watches, eyes blazing blue with holy power and lust, while the creature stretches his lover out, fucking into him slowly, then gradually faster until it’s pounding into Dean, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Cas could spend the rest of his days watching Dean fall apart like that. Dean’s fingers are digging uselessly into the floor for some kind of purchase while he gets fucked relentlessly by the monster’s tentacles, his back arched and ass in the air like a whore on display. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“My</span>
  </em>
  <span> whore,” Cas hears himself growling, and Dean’s eyes snap to his, gaze wild and frantic, mouth slack as he tries to withstand the drilling he’s receiving. He keeps letting out whimpers and cries and the occasional shout and Cas can’t stand to not be touching him for another instant. With a primal roar, Cas rips off the tentacles holding him in place, and the monster recoils a bit, almost as if waiting to see what he’ll do. He takes the opportunity to lift up Dean’s head by a fist in his hair, grab his drool covered chin, and kiss him </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s tongue and teeth and claiming and possessive and Dean crumples into it like a paper bag, whining Cas’ name desperately into the angel’s mouth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas responds by growling Dean’s name, and he forces Dean back onto the ground as he rips away the tentacle pile-driving his lover.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean Winchester,” Cas says, his voice ringing with holy authority, and Dean goes completely still beneath the angel, only tilting his hips to beckon his lover on. That’s the most explicit display of consent he’s going to receive in this situation, and that’s more than enough for the both of them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas hadn’t expected their first time to be like this; he had always pictured something hesitant, questioning, maybe a little awkward too. But there’s nothing hesitant about the way he lines his cock against Dean’s entrance and slams his hips forward, seating himself fully within the hunter. Dean cries out sharply, but Cas knows it’s with pleasure, not pain, and he digs his fingers into Dean’s hips and begins to rut into him mindlessly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve always been mine, Dean Winchester,” Cas growls as he slams his hips into Dean’s over and over, burying himself in that tight heat only to pull back and do it all over again. “I was made to love you, and you were made to be mine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean chokes on a sob and comes with a wail, the tentacle still locked securely around his cock as it milks him for all he’s worth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“M’yours, Cas, oh god fuck- Cas, </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>-” Dean slurs, trying to rock his hips back into Cas’, but the angel holds him in place and continues his mindless humping, paying Dean very little heed at all except to force him back onto the ground every time he raises up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The tentacles seem to very much enjoy the current progression of events, as they have slowly coiled themselves around every crevice of the pair as they fuck. Both of them are absolutely dripping with sweat and secretions and most especially their own spend, and they couldn’t care in the slightest. Dean’s voice is cracked and raw from all the screaming he’s doing, one scream bleeding into another until Cas isn’t entirely sure Dean ever stopped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Mmmooore…. Claim him, Angel of the Lord, claim your lover as you are compelled to.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The voice echoes loudly in Cas’ head, and a noise rips itself from his chest that’s so inhuman, Dean would probably be terrified if said angel weren’t pounding into his spot over and over, making him go slack and mindless with pleasure. That being said, all the noise does is make Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> desperate, as if subconsciously he can sense what’s going to happen and is begging for it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In a blinding flash of light, Cas’ wings fully manifest within the confines of the room, and Dean can’t turn his head to see them but he can see the shadow they cast as the angel spreads them out to their full glory, the tips of his outermost feathers brushing against each corner wall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The tentacles seem to have expected this, as they have rearranged to provide space, and they’re now pressing firmly into the base of each wing, massaging around the bone that connects the appendages to Cas’ back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dean Winchester, from now until the end of days, you are marked as mine. We are bound forever in life and in death,” Cas shouts, his voice reverberating with power, and Dean lets out a sharp scream as Cas sears his hand prints into Dean’s hips while he empties himself inside the hunter. Dean is pulled over the edge right along with him, and the two of them seem to orgasm for days on end before all at once, everything stops. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two of them blink the haze from their eyes, feeling their minds return to them as the lustful compulsions recede, and the monster is nowhere to be found. The only evidence left of their encounter is the piles of clothes strewn across the floor; even their bodily fluids have disappeared, presumably having been taken as an offering by the creature.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With the fog of desire having been lifted, at least one of the two is now painfully aware of how roughly and thoroughly the pair went at it, as when Dean tries to push himself to his feet, he barely manages to put one knee forward before falling back down. Cas is by his side instantly, touching a hand tenderly to the side of Dean’s cheek as a cool pulse of grace washes through him, cutting through the worst of the ache.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you.. alright?” Cas says, his voice even more gravelly than usual, and Dean thinks that he might even look a little guilty, and that just won’t do. Dean pulls Cas down and kisses him slowly before slumping in his arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“M’perfect. I can’t move, so, take us home, angel,” Dean says, his voice somehow even more wrecked than Cas’, and Cas feels a swell of pride at knowing that he is (at least the majority) reason for that, followed quickly by tenderness aimed at his lover.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Very well, Dean. Sleep, I will take care of everything. We can talk when you’ve rested adequately.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds good,” Dean slurs, already falling asleep in Cas’ arms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The angel sits there in the basement, holding his exhausted lover in his arms, and he realizes that someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> set this whole mission up to end this way. Whether it was the eldritch entity that shared carnal pleasure with them or another force, he can’t be sure, but this was no accident. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He supposes he should probably be troubled by that, but he can’t bring himself to care. They’re bound together, tangibly, now. They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>together</span>
  </em>
  <span> now. He looks down at Dean’s sleeping face and warmth blossoms in his chest, and that sharp ache is gone. As he gathers up their belongings and transports the two of them to the nearest motel to sleep everything off, Cas also realizes that the ache itself was Cas’ own heart, longing for what he thought he could never have. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knows now that nothing can keep them apart, not even each other.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading, everyone! Please leave a kudo and/or a comment if you liked this fic, and definitely stay tuned for more! </p><p>This fic was a commission! If you're interested in commissioning me, please check this link, and you can contact me at theywere-neverhomeless on tumblr! <br/>https://linktr.ee/swrites</p></blockquote></div></div>
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